The Penn's Grove record., 1887-01-22
TIE STORY OF A ZINC.
How Well the Jewels OF an Actrest
Keep Their Own Secret

AA"rE
from prison by means Of q diamond
ring generously offered him by a cele-
brated actress Of the time. Before COM
mencing the stage manager brou ght
me. according to custom, the property
ring used for the piece, which was
merely q bit Of rudely cut glass in a
rim Of copper 1 wore it as usual, and
gave It back in the course of the even
ing. Two days after the same comedy
was again given, and this time, the
house was crowded to excess. L had
Just left my dressing-room when, in
stead of the ring / had worn on the pre-
Yious occasion, the stage manager pre-
scented me with q small case in light
blue velvet, together with a sealed note,
saying that they had been left for me
by a servant in livery, with the request
that | would wear the inclosed ring in
lieu Of the other. | opened the case
and discovered a magnificent diamond
ring, which so surprised and dazzled
me that for Il moment l forgot the ac-
companyingnot {; but at length, reflect
ing that it would probably explain the
mystery, | broke the seal and read as
follows
tC mug WIN WV BABhNo foC "
Mile. de BeauYal wa neither worthy
Of her o of you. Accept this one,
madame, without fear it is offered as
a simple homage to the artist, and he
who sends it pledges himself ever to re-
main her unknown admirer. ,
The lines bore 10 signature, and l
confess that | felt a momentary hesita-
ton before complying with u request
which, after all, might not be quite 70
DISTINGUISHED as it at first sight appear
ed. | had, however, no time for re-
lection, as the stage was waiting so,
slipping the ring on my finger, ! man
aged to get through my part without
any unwonted emotion. During the
performance l tried to discover among
the audience the writer of the note, but
in vain and when the curtain fell re-
turned to my dressing-room, where my
maid, Lisette, was waiting for me.
Naturally, the diamond attracted heI
notice, and, on my telling her how ]
came by it, Depend upon ii, madame,
she said, st is no real stone; if it were
il would be worth an enormous sum of
money! so much the BETTER [ re.
piled those who make valuable pres
ents to actresses generally end by de-
manding something in return, and |
have not the least desire to acknowledge
the Obligation
Presently the room was filled with
the regular habitues, and l carefully
scanned every face in the hope of di-
vining the mysterious donor, but with
out success. When they were gone
Lisette came back in great excitement.
i have something to tell madame, she
said, which will ~astonish her. Have
YOU found out the writer's name = !
e gerly asked. No she replied, but,
what is more to the purpose, L have as
certtined the value Of the diamond.
While madame was talking to the gem
tlenen, L took it to a jeweler in the
Palais Royal, and he assured me that
it was worth at the very least 10000
francs On my seolding her for doing
this without my permission, She urged
that | ought to know its value Saucily
adding that If people were not aware
how much they owed, they would never
be in a position to pay their debts
thine passed, and nothing occurred
to relieve my anxiety the ring had
been long since carefully put away in
my iewel-box, for l felt that l ought
not to wear it, regarding it as a deposit
which, sooner or later. would inevitably
be demanded back from me. About a
year after l had received it, while din
ing with a colleague of u theatre, one
of my mothers friends suddenly burst
into the room where w were sitting
and announced to me that my hotel
had been broken into and all my dla-
monds stolen. | FASTENED home, and
found everything in disorder and my
servants in n panic of CONSERVATION.
Thanks to the activity Of the police,
the thief was ultimately captured, and,
as you may have read in the journals of
the time, condemned to the galleys !;
the greater part of the jewels were re-
covered and restored to me, but among
those missing, much to my regret, was
the diamond ring.
"Some years later | was invited to a
fancy ball given by the Countess de
B, q lady holding a prominent posi-
tion in society, who had spared nothing
to render her fete the great event of the
season. 1t was q scene of enchantmeDt,
AMI the night was far advanced before
| could tear myself away from so brill
liant a spectacle. Passing through a
gallery leading to the entrance hall !
suddenly felt a hand upon my arm, and
looking up l behold gazing intently at
me a masked figure in the costume of
Charles the Seventies time and wearing |
a blue velvet skull-cap with a leweled
clasp. For a nom mt or two he re-
manned silent, but presently asked me,
in a voice trembling with emotion, if
had forgotten the evening of Brueys
ct Palapart. ,
Mo- l replied, with vain attempt
at compoSure. How could p
My words seemed to make a pro-
found impression on him, for he seized
my hand and clasped it warmly. You
remember it still, he exclaimed, seven
though the token that might have kept
it in your memory has disappeared J
Tell me, did you regret its loss =
Bitterly, l said mot so much
for its value as on account of the mys-
terry attached to it.
elf it were again in your posses
sion, and here he paused on the
same conditions as before, would it
give you pleasure p
"'How can you doubt it u
"He held my hand in his and pressed
it tenderly /; then, mastering his agita-
ton by a strong effort, murmured in
my ear in a deSpairing tone that still
haunts me: "A pledge orce given by
a man of honor cannot be broken
Whatever it may cost me, / must re-
main forever your unknown admirel
Adieu, madame, adieup Before
could recover from the stupefactloI
into which this interview had thrown
mt he was gone, and the long-lost dia-
mond was g~lIttering on my finger. "
And you have never seen HIM
since ?" inquired Mile. Doze,
"Never."
"What a pity it isl ratified on the
lively ingenue, "that rings cannot
speak. Yours might have furnished a
elew to the identity of the mysterious